


Fire and Ice

by lait_tea1



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Shin Monshou no Nazo | Fire Emblem: New Mystery of the Emblem
Genre: 5+1 Things, But mostly fluff, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Non-Graphic Descriptions of Burns, also rated T for maybe two innuendos, maybe a little more than canon-typical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:33:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26614534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lait_tea1/pseuds/lait_tea1
Summary: Five times Roderick was there for Cecil, and one time she was there for him.
Relationships: Cecil/Roderick
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. Kindling

_There they are!_

Cecil tugged at the rope attached May’s reins and sprinted the last several meters of the road, chest heaving with exertion. Sweat plastered her hair to her face from the heat beating down from above, and her other hand was occupied with clutching the heavy steel weapons to her chest. With a final huff, she came to a skidding stop by the other squires gathered on the field – four of which were giving her inquisitive looks. A quick scan of the group revealed a familiar face: Katarina, standing a little further away in the shade of a tree and giving her a nervous smile and wave.

“I–I made it,” she wheezed, letting go of May’s reins to reshuffle the bundle of steel weapons in her grasp. “Hey, where’s this Commander Kris person?”

“That would be me.” The blue-haired squire to her right said. “But… who are you?”

_Did Katarina not tell them?_ Cecil brushed the thought aside for now and straightened up, doing her best to look as presentable as she could. “I’m Cecil, a junior knight like you. I know it’s very sudden, but I was invited by Katarina to join your group.”

At this, Katarina shot the other squires a sheepish look. “Er, sorry I didn’t tell you guys earlier…”

“No worries.” Kris said. He turned back to Cecil, then gave a start. “Ah, I think I remember Katarina telling me about you now… well, your arrival was quite sudden indeed, but the more the merrier. Could we talk after the battle instead?”

_That’s more like it. Good – I didn’t come all this way just to have a chat._

“Sure, I’m glad you understand.” She said, hand drifting down to the steel sword she already had sheathed at her hip. “Oh, by the way, I brought along some stronger weapons that Katarina prepared for you. Just give me the orders and I’ll give them to you to replace your worn out ones.”

“Alright then. What do you have?”

“Two steel swords, a steel lance and a steel bow.”

Kris pondered this for a moment, then nodded. “Could you give one of the swords to Luke – he’s the green-haired one on the horse, right over there…”

“Heey… uh. Oh… it’s you.” The strange expression Luke was wearing was immediately wiped from his face. Cecil narrowed her eyes. “What is it?”

“Luke, just take the sword.” Kris said impatiently.

“Ha, uh, yeah, got it…”

“And… could you give the bow to Ryan, and the lance to Roderick? And you have an extra sword, right? Would you mind…”

“Sure.” Cecil said, passing him the sheathed sword. The other two squires approached her – judging from the quiver of arrows over the shorter one’s shoulder, that was likely to be Ryan, so she handed the bow over before he even had to say anything. That left the other cavalier with the lance, then – he only gave her a quick nod and a “thanks” as he trotted his horse away to reposition himself where he had been standing before.

“Let’s get on with this battle!” Luke declared, whirling his new steel blade around in the air. “Oh yeah, this is what I’m talking about!”

Ryan shrank away from him. “Do… be careful…”

“Ha! When am I not?!”

“Er…”

Katarina took a step back off the battlefield and cupped her hands around her mouth to shout. “We’ve run through the tactics yesterday, Kris – you can do it!”

Kris nodded back. “You can count on me!” He turned to the others with a wave of his hand. “Alright, Seventh Platoon – we’ve got this!”

Cecil swung herself onto May’s back and unsheathed her sword. _I need to give this everything I’ve got to prove to Sir Cain and Sir Draug that I’m capable enough to keep training to be an Altean knight!_

“Our enemies are wielding lances, so–” Kris glanced around, frowning. “Okay, right, the weapon triangle… we’re at a disadvantage here, but if we move carefully, we can take them out. There are two bridges, so let’s utilise that as a, ah, what’s it called… a chokepoint?”

Katarina nodded encouragingly. “Yes, and about positioning?”

“I’ll take the lead in blocking off one bridge, and… Roderick, since you wield a lance, you can take up the other one on our left. Ryan, I’ll need you to back me up. Luke, and… Cecil, right? Luke, you’re with me, and Cecil, you’re with Roderick. Once we draw the enemy back away from the bridge so we don’t get swarmed by the mage and the archer, we can defeat them with our greater numbers and then move on to fight the archer and mage in close range.”

“A-alright…”

“Understood.”

“Let’s go!” Kris turned around and whistled sharply, drawing his sword.

“Cecil, was it? You’re with me.” The brunette cavalier – Roderick, Cecil presumed – called. He turned his horse towards the left bridge and, without waiting for her reply, spurred his horse away.

Cecil followed, seeing as the other three squires were already moving. When she approached the mentioned bridge, their enemy – a soldier wielding a lance – was already moving towards them.

Roderick slowed to meet the incoming lance with his own, a shower of sparks flying with the clash of their steel weapons. Cecil slowed her horse too and circled around just out of reach, grip tight on the hilt of her sword.

The enemy soldier pressed forwards, driving Roderick back several steps with precise, arcing swings of their lance. His horse whinnied and backed up another step, tossing its head and rolling its eyes back as the enemy’s lance came a little too close to its head.

_My turn!_ With a fierce cry, Cecil charged, swinging her steel blade. With the momentum of her horse, the enemy soldier’s grip wavered when he tried to block with the shaft of his lance; Cecil tightened her grip around May’s flanks with her legs and yanked on the reins hard.

With a loud whinny, May reared, front legs kicking. Cecil could feel herself slipping out of the saddle, but she flung her arm out in front of her in some attempt to maintain her balance and swung her sword out in front of herself with the other.

Her blade cut through the air with a whistle and a resounding clang. When May’s hooves hit the ground again, the soldier was lying flat on the ground with a gash in his breastplate and his weapon a meter out of his reach.

Pride swelled in her chest. She gave Roderick a triumphant look; the other cavalier was staring wordlessly, his expression one of surprise. _Did he underestimate me just because I’m a woman? Hah, that’ll show him…_

“Let’s finish this off.” She said, baring her teeth in a fierce grin. “They don’t stand a chance – I’ll take them out!”

“Wait–”

Cecil pivoted around and urged May forwards with a squeeze of her flanks. She focused her vision on the enemy standing across the bridge – a mage in standard red robe – and thundered forwards, whipping her sword around to strike.

“Careful!”

The blaze of fire from the mage’s hand went awry as someone galloped past her and skidded in front, lance flashing in a gleaming arc and diverting their attention. A spark of anger shot through her. _Huh – does he think I can’t handle a single mage?!_

She had to tug sharply on May’s reins to get her to divert her charge and gallop past rather than straight into them. “What are you doing?!” She snapped, voicing her thoughts aloud.

Roderick didn’t answer. Cecil gritted her teeth and urged May closer so she could get a swing at the mage with her sword.

With the two of them surrounding the mage and not giving them enough time to try to attack both of them with fire, it wasn’t long before they, too, were defeated.

“What are you doing?” Cecil said again, glaring at her partner. “Do you think me incapable–?!”

“I doubt any of us are particularly resistant to magic since we’re both cavaliers.” Roderick almost had the audacity to sound dry, stating the fact in such a bland way that made her bristle with fury. “A straightforward charge from the distance you were at – you were only giving the mage enough time to charge up an attack.”

“I can take on a little fire just fine – what, do you think just because I’m a woman…”

“I diverted their attention so you didn’t have to withstand a full blast of fire while trying to make your move.” Roderick replied, cutting her off. “After all, as your backup… it would be beneficial for the both of us to get hit back as little as possible.”

What else she had been planning to see died in her throat. Unfortunately, it did make sense – though it seemed more like a sidestep of what she was actually saying. With a final, indignant huff, she turned her horse around towards where the rest of the Seventh Platoon were. “…fine. Thanks… I guess.”

“I only did what I had to. Now – it seems like the others are nearly done with their chokepoint. Let’s regroup to receive our next orders from Kris.”


	2. Candle

It was the sudden crack of thunder that roused Cecil from her thoughts. 

She paused in unrolling her stiff gloves from her hands – soaked through by the rain that had pelted them during their evening training – and glanced at her shifting reflection in the window. The torrent outside fell thick and heavy in sheets of dull grey, and, whilst trying to quell her shallow breaths, she had to remind herself that the shadowy figure in the gloss of the window was nothing more but her imagination.

Cecil let loose a long exhale and pressed a hand to her chest. _The thunder startled me, that’s all. It’s nothing more than that…_

Instead, she focused on the gentle rise and fall of the blankets on the opposite bed. She envied Katarina’s ability to sleep through the thunderstorm – oh, how Cecil wished that she could drift off to sleep too and not have to worry about… other things. Though she was glad that the other girl was here at the very least – her previous room, amongst the cluster of rooms that had once belonged to the Ninth Platoon, had become incredibly quiet and unsettling after all its inhabitants had left. Having a roommate calmed her, though she hated to admit it aloud. There was something grounding about having someone there…

Another crack of thunder caused her to give a start. The bright flash of light outside the window caused the flickering shadows of her candle to tremble and twist in the dim lighting of their room. Cecil huffed out an irritated breath through her teeth and tried to focus on unlacing her boots.

She paused. A hand drifted up to her hair.

_My headband… did I take it off? I don’t remember taking it off just now…_

Cecil glanced at her bedside table. The pale purple fabric was nowhere in sight; not where she usually left it next to where her candle was, nor anywhere on her bedsheets. A quick check revealed that she hadn’t accidentally covered it with her blankets either.

While she knew she had spares, there was a nagging feeling at the back of her mind…

 _Ah…!_ The low growl of thunder outside sparked her memory. She retraced her steps through her head: the heavy rain, returning from the evening’s training with the Seventh Platoon, sitting down at the dining hall to eat… and she’d taken off her headband there to wring it out.

_I don’t remember picking it back up… ugh, I must’ve left it back there._

Cecil pondered picking it up tomorrow morning; after all, she would end up heading into the dining hall eventually for breakfast, but also, someone else might pick it up and stash it away elsewhere, and that would make it even harder to find… Besides, she was already awake now – it wasn’t like she would be able to get to sleep in the next five minutes or so, judging from the storm outside, so it would be more productive to go and pick it up now rather than later.

 _But…_ She glanced over at her flickering candle, throat tightening. _It’s dark out, and–_

“Ugh, who cares?” She said, a little louder than anticipated. She spared Katarina a glance, and was… relieved when she didn’t stir. At least, Cecil insisted it was relief. _Besides, why would she accompany me out to the dining hall now anyway? Hmph, and I don’t need anyone to accompany me, anyway. I can look for my headband just fine on my own._

She looked outside again. The crashing thunder had quelled a little, and it was almost as if the rain was falling a little less heavily. She heaved a sigh. _Alright, if I’m going to go out, I might as well do it now…_

Cecil lifted the candle on her bedside and rose to her feet. She padded through the room, keeping her footsteps light to avoid rousing Katarina, and put a hand on the doorknob.

The echoing creak caused her to wince. Her heart was pounding, causing her grip to tremble on the candlestick and shadows to suddenly dance around the room like wandering spirits…

_Gah, stop thinking about it – just go!_

She took a step out into the hallway. Most of the sconces had gone out, leaving behind one or two alight for every ten steps. She glanced to her right, then to her left – not a soul in sight.

_Get a hold of yourself! You’re not weak enough to be… afraid of things like that…_

She stepped out of the room and glanced back inside. Katarina was still sleeping soundly, and the safety of the room seemed a lot more tempting now she was outside.

“No, not now.” Cecil said aloud. She forced her hand to remain steady as she moved to close the door behind her.

Before she’d even taken another step farther, something groaned – and the shadows on the opposite wall suddenly twisted and stretched out across the wall like bony fingers…

“K-kyaaa!” She slapped a hand over her mouth as the door opposite her opened.

“Huh…? Oh. Cecil, it’s just you.”

Cecil opened her eyes and was met with the sight of a bleary-eyed Roderick.

“H-huh?! What are you doing here?! Why – why are you here?!”

“I thought I heard someone say something. Was it you knocking on the door, or was that just…?”

Cecil tried to breathe out as evenly as possible and _not_ make a fool of herself in front of the other squire. “Y-you imagined it.” She said, in as steady a voice as possible. “It must’ve been… the storm.”

“I see…” Roderick raised an eyebrow at her, expression unchanged. “And what are you doing here? It’s rather late at night.”

“I…” Cecil debated telling him it was none of his business and to move on, but the other squire just being there was… setting her at a little more ease. At least, the shadows on the wall were nothing more than shadows now…

She sighed. “I left my headband out in the dining hall, so I was going to go get it since I can’t sleep anyway.”

Roderick was silent for a long moment. Then he cocked his head and said “Do you want me to assist you?”

“H-huh?! I–”

_What, does it look like I need your help, just because I’m a woman?!_

She bristled, but the half-sleepy and almost guileless look on his face made her reconsider. _Maybe… he isn’t saying that because he thinks I’m scared or anything like that. And… it’d be nice to have help, since it’d be dark in the dining hall, and two pairs of eyes are better than one…_

“…fine,” she muttered, then realised she probably sounded too reluctant and added “Thank you for the offer.”

“Let me get my candle first.” Roderick disappeared back into his room and reappeared moments later, an unlit candlestick in his hand. Holding the candle’s wick above the sconce near their heads set it alight once more, and the hallway seemed just a little brighter.

“Let’s go.” Without another word, he turned and was off in several long strides, coattails fluttering and casting butterfly-light silhouettes against the stone wall.

Cecil swallowed thickly and followed.

-x-x-x-

It was a quiet walk to the dining hall. Even with the castle’s halls nearly pitch black, Roderick’s steps were confident and assured as they walked down the familiar path. Cecil picked up her pace so she wouldn’t trail behind.

“Did you leave it at the table where we were at for dinner?” Roderick paused at the wooden double doors that marked the entrance to the dining hall and pushed one open. He paused as he held it open, studying Cecil expectantly.

“…yes, I think I did.” Cecil stepped through as well, and Roderick let the door swing shut behind them with a heavy thud. She tried not to jump at that, and tightened her grip around her candlestick.

“It should be around… here, I think.” Roderick held his candle up a little higher to cast its flickering light over the wooden tables. He abruptly started walking, and Cecil moved to follow, unwilling to let his fluttering flame move too far away.

They paused at one of the tables. Cecil put down her candlestick to focus on scanning the area around her; the tiny flames hardly gave them much sight, and the creeping circle of darkness around them was… certainly unsettling. Roderick seemed completely unperturbed by it, she noted with a hint of envy – he simply walked straight through the shifting shadows like they weren’t there, which… was probably the case, but Cecil couldn’t help but jump every time the shadows seemed to clump up in wavering humanoid shapes that shifted with every second.

“Ah. Is this it?” She was distracted from her thoughts by Roderick suddenly approaching her through the darkness again. She gave a start – she hadn’t realised that he’d moved on while she was contemplating.

She shook herself off and looked up at the piece of fabric dangling from his grasp. “Oh – oh, yes, it is! Er… thank you.”

“It’s no problem.”

Cecil picked up her candlestick and curled her fingers around the soft, familiar fabric of her headband with a relieved sigh. “Phew. I’m glad nobody took it…”

“Indeed. Well, let’s return to our rooms – it is quite late, and we should get what sleep we can to prepare for tomorrow… you know that Sir Jagen will certainly not be happy if he catches us yawning.” There was a flicker of mirth in his dark eyes; Cecil’s breath caught in her throat for a second, and not because of the wraith-like shadows for once.

“Ah… I, uh – yes, he wouldn’t.” Cecil spared the dark dining hall a final look to avoid looking at him for time being, very aware of the prickling… discomfort that was beginning to creep up her throat. Her face felt a little too warm, for some odd reason; perhaps it was due to how close she was holding her candle to her face…

She realised she’d fallen behind again when she heard the doors squeak open. She quickly moved to catch up, offering a quick nod and mumbled “thanks” as he stepped away from the door and allowed it to close behind her.

The rain in the courtyard just outside suddenly increased in volume. Roderick lifted his hand to shield his candle’s flame. “It seems like the storm is getting worse… I wonder if they’ll be able to continue with training tomorrow? It might be dangerous to practice… then again, in a real life scenario – it might actually be beneficial if we practiced in such conditions.”

“…perhaps.” Cecil said vaguely, too focused on gazing out at the thick, dark blanket of clouds above. “It’d be up to Sir Cain to decide…”

“Hm…?” Roderick abruptly halted in place and tilted his head inquisitively. “Do you… hear something?”

“H-huh?! W-what thing?!”

“It was a strange sound… well, never mind, it must be the wind…”

A dark shape suddenly moved through the darkness, shifting noiselessly through the grass in the courtyard just past the waist-height wall separating them…

Then her candle abruptly went out.

“K-kyaaaa!”

“Cecil?!”

“T-the ghost – w-where–”

“Wait – calm down, Cecil… could you let go–”

Cecil squeezed her eyes shut and tightened her trembling grip, her throat tightening and her heartbeat suddenly hammering in her throat. “B-but, but…! T-the ghost, it’s, it’s–!”

“Cecil – please, listen to me–”

-x-x-x-

As it turned out, the shadowy figure moving around the courtyard was just Kris in drenched clothes on his late-night training session in the rain.

Cecil ardently avoided the two of them for the next several days in a fit of embarrassment and infuriation – mostly at herself, but nonetheless, she wasn’t able to look them properly in the eye without being reminded of the event until the next week.


	3. Burns

_How… how did it come to this?!_

Now, reflecting back on it, there had been signs. Katarina’s faraway look whenever knighthood was mentioned, her refusal to touch a weapon, her sudden bout of seeming nostalgia right before their knighting ceremony.

But who would’ve thought it would all add up to this?

“Katarina, how could you?!” Cecil snarled over the chaos of battle; the clashing of weapons, the mayhem and agonised screaming that filled the throne room.

The girl she once knew as the Seventh Platoon’s gentle tactician and her soft-spoken roommate – the person she owed her entire knighthood for giving her a sliver of hope, a chance, when her entire platoon had deserted her – turned around. Her expression was blank, emotionless; Cecil nearly missed the whispered words over the cacophony of battle.

“Yes… I deceived you.” Katarina – no, Reese, she called herself – had the gall not to make any other response, to smile or sneer or _anything_ – she only stood, motionless, her hands folded neatly in front of her and her expression almost serene in a way. “…forgive me.”

Cecil hissed. “You’re a liar, a traitor – I’ll… I’ll never forgive you!”

With a ferocious cry, she lifted her sword, squeezed May’s flanks with her legs and charged.

Cecil hardly saw Katarina move, because one second she was standing there as still as a statue, and the next – fire engulfed her and May whole.

May screamed – an animalistic, high pitched shriek of agony. – and bolted, sending Cecil to the ground in a tangle of limbs and armour scorching her skin even as the fire flickered and faded from existence. The smell of soot and smoke and singed cloth lingered on her tongue and in her throat.

The worst of it was the heat of her armour. She hissed and squeezed her eyes shut at what must’ve been the red-hot heat of the metal searing her skin, with only the coolness of the stone ground beneath her reprieve; beyond that, the blazing pain radiating from her raw skin _hurt_ even more than any of the Fire tomes the mages used in their training sessions could ever offer.

It seemed all too long until her consciousness came to the conclusion that she was not dead. Despite lying on the ground of a battlefield, nobody had come to put her out of her misery – she was just… left alive, curled up on the floor and singed from head to toe. But she was still alive.

Cecil tried to get up, to at least find somewhere else to tend to her wounds and not be lying there in the middle of the battlefield, but the _pain_ that radiated through her palms and knees and entire body suddenly flared up again and she collapsed, chest heaving and gasping for air amidst the thick, choking smoke. There was a low, whining noise, she noted through a haze of pain – until she realised it was reverberating from her dry throat, muffled by the ground and singed cloth of the glove she was burying her face into.

“Cecil… Cecil!”

Something agitated the raw, tender flesh of her arm and agony wracked her body. She hadn’t realised she’d made a noise until whatever it was drew away and it was replaced with a cautious hand just barely ghosting over her skin.

“…it’s over… they’ve left.” The voice was low, tentative, almost gentle in a way. “Cecil… I’m going to turn you over, at least. We need to check your injuries… is that alright?”

She made some sort of low, affirmative noise in reply, but almost immediately regretted it as pain washed over her entire left side.

“Ah… sorry.”

Light hit her closed eyelids. She hadn’t realised she’d closed them, and tried to open them, to blink and focus her vision, but everything was blurry and it _hurt_.

Something brushed over her palm and she hissed, drawing her hand back.

“That doesn’t look good…” Cecil finally could identify the voice, also partially based on the blurry figure she had seen when she’d tried to open her eyes. _…Roderick?_

“I’m… I’m going to remove your armour now, at least. I… I won’t touch you too much, but at least we should make it easier for the clerics to see your injuries and heal you as necessary.” A long pause. “…are you okay with that?”

She mumbled something and did her best to nod.

Carefully, almost painstakingly, she felt her pauldrons being unbuckled and set aside with a faint clink of metal on stone. The armour had cooled down to only being mildly warm at this point – fast to conduct and release heat, as steel went – but she still shifted and sighed in relief as each piece of armour was peeled away.

“That’s… as far as I’ll go.” There was a note of something else in his voice – embarrassment, she wondered, but her mind refused to piece together why – as he finally let his hands still. Cecil tried to open her eyes again, now that the throbbing in her body had died down to an ache in where, she presumed, the worst of the burns were, and was met with a shadow falling over her face as something almost gently brushed her cheek.

“Ah…”

The touch seemed to linger on her cheek, despite Roderick already having retracted his hand. Cecil tried to move her hand up to touch it, but found that her right palm really hurt.

“You shouldn’t move – you’re injured. Stay here for a moment – I’ll go fetch…”

“May – my horse… and the others…” Cecil’s shocked herself with how raspy she sounded, but she forced herself to continue. “Are they alright…?”

“Your horse is being tended to right now, but… she’s alive and well enough to be trying to fight off our clerics, if that means anything. Kris… Kris forced Katarina to retreat – I don’t know the details, but they’re both alive… even if Katarina’s already gone. Luke’s as… he usually is, and I think Ryan’s sustained a mild injury from one of the assassins, but they’re all alive, thankfully.”

“…and you?”

“Huh? Me…? I’m… I’m as well as I can be, at least after all that.” Roderick paused for a moment. Through her bleary vision, he looked almost… concerned – _For what? For… me? No, it can’t… why would he…?_

“…sustained the most injuries,” he was saying, when Cecil snapped back to reality. “They were really worried about you…”

“Me?” Cecil coughed. It occurred to her that it tasted like ash had coated the back of her tongue, but at this point, it was the least of her worries. “I… I’m fine. I can handle a little fire…”

There was a long silence.

“…I’m going to get a healer.” Roderick finally said. A hand gently eased her head off… off something? She made a small, uncomfortable noise at the back of her throat as the back of her head met cold, hard stone. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

The sounds of footsteps receded off into the distance. Cecil waited until it sounded like he was farther off until she tried to sit up again, this time putting her weight onto her left palm – the one that wasn’t grasping the hilt of her sword.

It still hurt, but at least she managed to get up this time. She glanced down at her right palm and instantly regretted it; the skin was blistered and a deep, blotchy red. She tore her eyes away from it and tried to focus elsewhere; she paused at the sight of her breastplate and pauldrons next to her, the leather straps scorched black. _Was it… really that much fire?_

Cecil didn’t catch Roderick’s return until he abruptly dropped to his knees next to her. “You shouldn’t have moved – you don’t want to irritate or dirty the wounds. If it gets infected, that’s the worst part. Also, I couldn’t get you a healer because they’re busy with too many injured soldiers, but here; I brought some first aid supplies.”

“Supplies…?” She turned her head and noted the roll of bandages, soaked water skin and vulnerary on top of an unrolled piece of cloth. “You know how…?”

“Just a basic understanding of first aid. But I should be able to help clean out your wounds and wrap them up to keep them from getting infected. Here, give me your right hand…”

Cecil let him take her throbbing right palm into his hands – a small part of her mind seemed focused on how small her hand felt in his, even though it didn’t _look_ like there was much of a difference, but she blotted that out with a faint twitch of her lips into something that resembled a scowl. She winced as her fingers were extended and as cool water dripped over the tender flesh.

The burn of the vulnerary being tipped over her hand made her hiss and try to retract it to her chest, but Roderick held her wrist steady until the pain subsided into a faint sting. “There, that should do it – I’ll wrap a bandage around it so it can heal. You’ll have to replace it once in a while, but…”

He trailed off, focusing on wrapping the bandages neatly around her hand. He tucked the final piece underneath who-knows-where and tore the rest off, presenting Cecil with her newly-bandaged hand. “That should do it.”

“…thank you.” Cecil mumbled, examining her palm. The bandages were wrapped neatly around her hand, covering almost every inch of skin; it was a stark contrast to the shoddy handiwork she knew she would've made of it. It almost felt completely painless, oddly enough; there was a warmth radiating out from it, likely from the vulnerary, but otherwise it felt strangely numb. “You’re… experienced at it.”

“It’s a skill I had to pick up back at home for my little sisters… but never mind about me.” Roderick shook his head. “Are there… other burns you have that are, ah, in places where I can… wrap them for you? Or should I get someone else…”

Cecil paused for a long moment to contemplate it. _What does he mean, ‘places he can wrap them for me’? What places are there… ah._

“Is it because I’m a woman?” She blurted aloud, and he almost seemed to recoil at that, brow furrowing and eyes darting away – _Ah, is that… is he embarrassed?_

Strangely enough, despite the fact that he was, in fact, treating her differently because she was a woman… it really was the least of her worries, like many other things she had ended up pondering today while lying on the floor. _So he’s able to do both the jobs of men and women too… Maybe… I was wrong in thinking that he was treating me differently just because I’m a woman… After all, I did jump a little too quickly into thinking that he was trying to help me just because he thought I was weak or incapable…_

She snickered despite herself. _Well, I guess I can let him off this once…_

“Is… something particularly amusing?”

“Nothing, no.” She shook her head. “Just – just… well, you don’t have to be overly concerned about me just because I’m a woman, you know, but… ah, ow–!”

“Are you alright?”

“It’s… nothing. I didn’t realise…” She lifted her bandaged hand to touch her cheek again. “Is it… bad?”

“That?” Roderick’s eyes shot up to her face, then away. “Not as bad as your hand, no, but… it’s still rather red. I thought… well, I suppose I could – I have the vulnerary here to clean it out. Here, allow me… hm, it doesn’t seem like we have any spare cloth here, but I can use this as a replacement…”

Cecil said nothing. Her eyes followed the path of his gaze as he moved to pour the vulnerary over a stray piece of linen bandage.

She swallowed thickly, all her previous mirth suddenly gone.

With surprising tenderness, he patted the vulnerary into the smarting parts of her cheek. Warmth seemed to seep through her face at the touch of the sharp-scented, stinging liquid, and she chewed on her bottom lip and averted her eyes to avoid the sheer awkwardness that was beginning to build between them.

“That’s about what I can do, I think.” Roderick finally sat back on his haunches a respectable distance away from her. Cecil released the breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding and turned her gaze back towards him again.

“Er… thank you, Roderick.” She said. Her face was feeling unreasonably warm despite the vulnerary only being applied to one side of her face, but she put it to the effect of the burns… or something. “I… appreciate it.”

“You’d do the same for me.” His response was so casual, so offhanded that she nearly had to do a double-take. She blinked, mouth opening, then closing when she realised she didn’t know how to respond to that at all.

“You should probably find somewhere else to sit, at the very least – and then once the clerics are done with the more severe injuries, you might be able to go get your… other wounds looked at.” Roderick straightened up, brushing down his coat and sweeping up the remainders of the medical supplies. “I should go check if the others are alright. Or… can you stand? I could…”

“I can.” She said abruptly, a spark of irritation creeping through her again. Then it faded at once as she glanced down at her bandaged palm again. “I…”

“That’s good. The clerics have set up a makeshift camp near Prince Marth’s throne – you should be able to see them if you turn around. I’m going to go find Luke now. See you later.” He’d disappeared off into the crowds before she could even say another word.

_That was… abrupt._ Cecil stifled a sigh and let a hand drift to her warm cheek. The stinging of the burn and the vulnerary was still there, but it felt unusually hot to touch…

_Well, never mind all that. I should probably go and find somewhere else to wait instead of sitting in the middle of the throne room…_ A long exhale whistled through her lips as she spared the place where she had last seen the green-clad cavalier a final look. _Maybe… he isn’t as bad as I thought._


	4. Heat

The rocking of the boat hadn’t done anything for Cecil’s throbbing head, never mind the hasty escape from Chiasmir Bridge, the dizzying lurching of the floor and the thick, heavy heat. Everything seemed to pass in a blur, yet seemed to last all too long, like some kind of hazy line between reality and a not-so-pleasant dream…

When the boat finally docked with a heavy thud against the shore, everyone rushed to bustle off – some carrying supplies to and fro, setting up the convoy again, whilst others moved their mounts off the boats onto the sand.

That part seemed to dissolve in a haze, to Cecil – shoulder to shoulder with the other cavaliers, pressed up all too close together as they moved in rows to move their mounts off the boat – there was no reprieve from the heat.

Cecil didn’t even snap at Luke when he elbowed her in the side by accident, which was what alerted the rest of the Seventh Platoon to the fact something was wrong.

“Hey, Cecil, you good?” Luke asked genuinely, sauntering up to her with his horse in tow on a rope (since riding a horse in the desert wouldn’t be of any more benefit anyway). She made an irritated noise in response and blinked blearily at him; the blue of his armour was enough to recognise him, but it took a couple of seconds to comprehend what he was saying.

“…what? I’m fine.” She groused, leaning against May as another wave of dizziness overtook her again. “I’ve not ridden a boat before, that’s all.”

“A-are you sure?” Ryan asked nervously from her other side. 

Cecil didn’t even bother to turn her head, lest she lose her balance. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You didn’t even yell at me as you usually do when I accidentally, er, bumped into you.” Luke said.

“What? You want to be yelled at?” Cecil growled, then hissed as the world started to spin. May nickered and let Cecil lean against her neck as they kept shuffling onwards.

“Well, no, but you know…”

“Ryan, could you help me with something?” A distant voice called.

Ryan shot Cecil an apologetic look. “S-sorry, my brother needs me… er, Luke, Roderick, m-maybe you should ask a cleric, or maybe Sir Wrys–”

“I said I’m fine!”

Ryan squeaked and fled.

“Where’s Kris?” Luke said in a low voice, giving Roderick a nudge.

“He’s handling something for Sir Jagen. Something about management of the convoy…”

“What’re you whispering about?!” Cecil barked, glaring blearily in their general direction. “I can hear you, you know!”

“No, you can’t…” Luke mumbled under his breath, but Roderick spoke over him. “Cecil, at peace. We should reach the Sanctuary of Sorcery soon – we’re all in need of shade from this heat and water. We can hold out until then…”

Cecil scoffed and continued to walk, ignoring the two of them entirely in favour of trying to focus on the path ahead of her and not her throbbing head or the prickling sweat down her face. _I’m fine. I don’t need people constantly asking me if I’m alright – I’ll just get some water and sit down once we get to Khadein, no big deal._

Either way, it wasn’t working, because she closed her eyes for just a second to try and stave off the headache and the next thing she knew, she’d tripped and stumbled, May’s reins tangling around her wrist.

Roderick grabbed her by the shoulder with his free hand to steady her. They walked side-by-side for a couple of moments without speaking before Roderick let his hand fall back to his side again.

Cecil couldn’t even find the energy to get angry at the other squire for… for _something_ – her pain-addled head refused to piece together why exactly she was so frustrated. She let out an infuriated huff. _Why am I the only one feeling like this? The others don’t seem to be suffering at all. Is it because I’m weak–? No, that can’t be – not even…!_

“…whoa. She didn’t yell at you for touching her?” Luke whispered from a couple steps behind Cecil and her horse – usually, not a very good place to stand for one to speak of her in such a voice, but it didn’t seem like Cecil was paying much attention to them anyway.

Roderick looked over him, brow furrowed. “That’s not the issue here…”

“Wait, what do you mean–?”

“Hmm.” Suddenly, Roderick’s eyes narrowed and he suddenly strode forward to catch up with Cecil’s teetering gait. “Cecil,” he said, “There’s something I need to check.”

Without waiting for a response, he placed a hand against her forehead.

“What are you doing–?!” Luke hissed, but to his surprise, Cecil said nothing about the sudden touch, and in fact let out something that almost sounded like a relieved sigh. Roderick withdrew his hand and reached up to feel his own forehead.

“Hm.” Roderick glanced over to his side. “Luke, come here.”

“What?” Luke squinted dubiously at him, but moved forwards anyway. Roderick set his hand against Luke’s forehead too, then frowned and looked over at Cecil.

“I think it’s some sort of sickness, or even a fever.”

“Huh? You mean Cecil _gets_ sick?”

Roderick’s eyebrows drew together in some semblance of a glare at the blue-clad cavalier, but it almost immediately dissolved back into something akin to concern. “If that’s the case…”

“What are you talking about?” Cecil abruptly snapped. The fire behind those words were lost with how her words seemed to slur together, and the unfocused look in her eyes as she stared in their general direction.

“Are you going to tell her, or–”

“Cecil, I believe you might’ve caught some kind of sickness.” Roderick said, speaking right over Luke – much to his fear, or shock, or whatever expression he was making at the moment. “Or a heatstroke, perhaps – either way, you probably shouldn’t be pushing yourself.”

“Hmph, I already said I can walk just fine on my own… and there’s nowhere to stop anyway. I don’t need any of your help just because you think I can’t handle this because I’m a woman.”

Roderick raised an eyebrow. “It’s not about whether you’re a woman or not…”

“I already _said_ I’m–”

The sand abruptly gave way to a dip that she most definitely did not expect. She stumbled again with a vicious curse flying from her lips at the sudden jab of agony at the back of her head.

She was caught by something – nothing particularly soft, in fact her forehead meeting the cold, hard surface of metal really did not do anything for her aching head, but at least she wasn’t facedown in the sand.

As she pondered this thought, she realised that she had been leaning against Roderick for… quite some time actually. And nobody had said anything within those… few seconds? Minutes? She wasn’t quite sure, but she felt her face flush more than it did already and moved to pull herself away, but the feeling of an arm wrapping around her shoulder caused her to freeze.

“If you’re going to insist on refusing to rest, then at the very least… let me support you.” Roderick said quietly. “You can lean on me instead of May; I can hold you back if you trip again, at the very least. And about May…”

“Hey, wait – wait a second, what about me?” Luke protested. “I’m kind of being left out here, y’know!”

“You can hold on to May.” Roderick unwrapped the coiled leather straps of May’s reins from Cecil’s wrist. Cecil made an indignant noise, but said nothing else – the cool metal of his breastplate against her cheek was quite relieving, actually. And her head had been feeling incredibly heavy, and having something to actually lean against…

Luke pouted. It looked more like a grimace with how sweat was trickling down his forehead and plastering loose strands of his hair to the sides of his face. “Well, thanks for just shoving that job over… well, actually…” He paused. “Actually, nope, never mind – don’t want to get in between you guys! It’d be better if you handle her instead…”

Roderick turned his head just a little to squint uncertainly at him, but there wasn’t much room to actually turn with Cecil’s weight against his shoulder. He made a mental note to ask about what Luke meant later, and turned his attention back to Cecil.

Perhaps it was the exhaustion or just all of the events of the last several hours piling up on them, but… Cecil’s silence was unnerving, and the way she surrendered to allowing them to help her was just… unsettling. Roderick almost missed her usual snark and fiery temper…

_…I can’t let these feelings get in the way of my duties._ Even as the thought popped into his mind, though, he was already distinctly aware of how… unprofessional this was. _Acting on these fleeting thoughts… I should really stop doing this. At least… it doesn’t seem like she’s… thought about it yet._

A quiet sigh whistled from his lips. There was something welling up in his chest – forcing himself to acknowledge it as some sort of disappointment, despite his head clearly insisting that it was wrong and it had to be the opposite – but he brushed that thought aside as well, and brought his attention back to checking if she was alright.

From the corner of his vision, when he turned his head – her face pale and eyes half-shut – his chest ached.

_…I just hope she gets better soon and goes back to being herself. It’s… too strange seeing her like this._


	5. Blaze

Anri’s Way was truly a path that tested the mind and body to their limits. From towering mountains and sheer cliff edges that gave way to nothing but thin air if one did not watch their feet, to cracked earth seeping black-and-red magma from its deep gashes, to the bitter cold and thinning air – the Altean army pressed on.

The biting chill cut straight through their clothes and armour. Their heavy coats seemed only a hindrance rather than anything else, though those who survived knew that they were one of the only few things keeping them alive at this point. The other thing being the weak haze of fire magic cast over the long line of marching troops, but there were too few mages and too many people.

When they found a suitable place to make camp – a wide stretch of snow-layered earth, ridged and uneven yet the flattest piece of land they had come across on their painstaking trek up the mountain – they drew to a stop. Tents were set up, campfires were lit to stave off the cold; most were too exhausted to do much after that, huddling up by the fires or within their tents.

Cecil found herself wandering rather aimlessly amongst everything going on, with not much to do after stabling May since the supply tents was still getting set up.

_The clerics are still hard at work._ Cecil noted at the sight of the queue already leading up into the green tent that marked the makeshift medic’s chambers. _The landslide that happened near the back earlier must’ve really taken a toll on our soldiers…_

She watched her breath cloud the air in front of her and tucked her numb hands into the pockets of her coat. It was likely that they would start handing out rations soon, when they managed to get the convoy set up, but for now…

_Hm… Kris has been pretty busy lately, handling all these tasks that Sir Jagen sets him. Maybe I should go check on him…_

And while she was on the topic of Kris, the rest of the Seventh Platoon was nowhere in sight either. Cecil had seen them nearby while they were marching up the mountain, so she was sure they were alright – either they had fallen behind while she wasn’t looking, or she had. Either way, she didn’t doubt she would see them soon – they often ate their meals together, no matter how meagre. Sharing chatter over a campfire brought back memories of a rambunctious dining hall, alight with the loud enthusiasm of the other squires, during a time before the war with Archanea…

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing standing around all cold and alone in the snow?”

A heavy hand landed on her shoulder, startling her from her thoughts. It took a moment to process the words; while she was caught off guard by two soldiers suddenly approaching her, they had slipped around her side and one of them had his arm around her in some kind of mockery of an embrace.

“Ah, no matter. We’ve something for you – cleric tent’s too busy for ‘minor injuries’ like ours, so they gave us some supplies and sent us on our way.” The soldier – a brutish man with bushy dark eyebrows and narrow eyes – flashed a thin-lipped sneer, flashing just the hint of white teeth. “Surely we’d better appreciate a lovely lady helping us with this, especially since playing soldier really isn’t something for a woman like yourself. Help us a moment ‘ere and we’ll let you share our fire – or even our tent for this cold night… ”

Cecil blinked. It took another long moment to fully absorb what he was saying, but when it did, her expression twisted into disgust and she yanked his hand off her, not holding back into letting her nails dig into his ice-cold hands. “Get away from me.” She snapped, aggressively shoving him a step back. “I’ve had a long day and unless you want to lose a limb, you’d better get out of my sight. And…”

She glared ferociously, anger flaring up inside her like a blazing inferno. “First of all, we women deserve respect just like every other knight. Would you be lowly enough to try something like that on Princess Caeda or Dame Palla? We’re not just pretty faces to tend to the needs of you men, you pathetic dasdards.”

They paused for a moment. Cecil really did hope that was enough to send them off, and maybe even make them reconsider their actions, if anything – instead, to her fury, the two soldiers simply glanced at each other and laughed.

“So the dame has some fire in her, eh?” One sniggered, nudging his friend.

“Oh, quite. Something like that would keep me warm this winter night, that’s for sure…”

Cecil snarled. “How _dare_ you–?!”

In an instant, she had her Ladyblade drawn and held directly between their beady eyes, its razor sharp edge gleaming with an icy hue. The way their pupils instantly dilated and their shoulders tensed caused gratification – cold and ruthless – to coil inside her.

“Perhaps you’d like to think what you said through again.” She enunciated slowly, narrowing her eyes.

“Well…” The soldier on the left – the shorter of the two and clearly the more cowardly… or the smarter one – shrank back. “Yeah, you’re probably–”

“What are you doing, you lily-livered fool?!” Rage crossed the right soldier’s face; no longer was he wearing a smug grin, and his hand landed on the hilt of his own sword. “She needs to be put back in her place for trying to talk back to _me_ –“

The corners of Cecil’s lips twisted upwards, and she lifted her sword. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll–”

“Cecil, don’t.”

Roderick appeared out of nowhere. He placed his hands on her shoulders and started tugging her away…

“You–?”

“It’s not worth it. They might be foul-mouthed soldiers, but they’re soldiers nonetheless – and our army needs as many as we can.” Roderick said. “In the end, we’re knights, and we have to make the right choices. We’re all tired and irritable from the cold. Just leave before you make any rash decisions–”

“Me? Make rash decisions?” Cecil yanked her arm away from his grasp. The fire welling up inside of her blazed up hot and unyielding, and she was spitting out words before she could even think. “How dare _you_?! I thought you better, Roderick – but all you’ve ever cared about is about your ‘duty as a knight’, haven’t you? Not about standing up for what’s _actually_ right and for justice – and never mind that, when I try to speak up for myself and for my beliefs, you think you can just step in and try and take this away from me too?!”

She couldn’t see his expression with her back turned, but she could almost hear him recoil. Her expression darkened. _Good._

“You’re _pathetic._ ” She uttered, letting the curling inferno in her throat flare up as she took several steps away. “I really did think you better once. But now I see that you’re just like them – you don’t care about the way men treat women like mere objects… and you even think you have the right to try and stop me from speaking up for myself.”

“Cecil, that’s not…”

“And!” Her grip tightened around her sword. “ _Rash decisions_ , you say? You think I’m doing this just because some snow’s bothering me? Sorry to let you know, but I’m not a weak-minded individual who lets the Naga-forsaken weather turn me into a different person entirely. I thought you knew me better, but I thought wrong.”

There was a long silence that followed. Even the two men who had been harassing her earlier had fallen motionless, frozen in place.

“…Cecil, I didn’t–”

“Shut _up_!”

She whipped around, lashing her sword out, jabbing it in his direction to emphasise her point–

She hadn’t realised he’d moved.

Roderick blinked. A thin line of red trickled down his left cheek; he lifted a hand to touch the shallow cut and his fingers came away smudged with blood.

Cecil lowered her sword.

Her heart throbbed in her throat, and suddenly the fiery anger in her chest was all too overwhelming and burning far too hot.

She shoved the sword in its scabbard, spun on her heel and stormed away. All the words that had been bubbling up in her chest seemed to have been torn away by some unseeable force; and that force felt like it had torn the rest of her heart away with jagged claws.

_He deserved it. They deserved all of it. It’s his fault for getting in my way._

The dozens of eyes that followed her were a fiery prickling across her back, and it persisted even as she barged her way through the narrow gaps between the tents and out through the knife-like branches of the meagre bushes surrounding the camp. She didn’t stop walking, not even when snow fell from the dark green bristles of tattered ferns down the collar of her coat and chilled her to the bone.

_You were the one who interfered, I did the right thing–_

No matter how much she repeated those words in her head, a heavy, icy _thing_ was settling in her chest and entwining it in what felt like metal wires, jagged and barbed with frigid nettles that sank into her flesh.

Snowflakes melted on her burning cheeks and trickled down; icy streams of water that traced the curve of her jaw in some mocking imitation of a hand, already half-frozen before they even hit the ground in chunks of wet ice.


	6. Blizzard

The howling winds and snowstorm worsened. Snow fell in heavy sheets; a thick white blanket, limiting their vision to little more than two steps ahead of themselves. So they’d hardly had a warning – a beaten and bloodied Athena clawing her way out through the blizzard – before the bandits descended on them.

And the ballistae – they couldn’t forget the ballistae. The snap and horrifyingly loud _bang_ that rang just a second before a bolt would impale the ground just by their feet, sharp tip plunging into the snow and a meter into the earth and just narrowly missing them each time.

Kris accompanied Marth and they disappeared into the snowstorm at once. That was all Cecil was really aware of, at this point – their numbers were so low (they hadn’t thought to bring too many soldiers, just an ‘elite force’ that consisted of Prince Marth, Sir Jagen and the Seventh Platoon) that when they split up, it was as if they were completely gone. The snow obscured everything in a haze of grey and white, and multiple times Cecil nearly ran directly into an assassin leaping out from seemingly nowhere to try take her head off before she cut them through with her sword.

Another snap and bang, and another ballista bolt whistled somewhere over her head and sank into the snow elsewhere.

Her heart hammered in her chest with each time the ballista fired. May tossed her mane and whinnied with each loud sound, eyes rolling.

She tightened her numb grip around the hilt of her sword and whipped around to find herself nearly at the mercy of another assassin. She kicked May’s flanks and galloped out of reach, circling around and charging straight back to tear their axe from their hands with a twist of her sword. The assassin fell soon after in a streak of bright red in the snow – even then the snow was already piling up on top and dusting the red in mottled white.

Blood stained Cecil’s silver blade. Against the white snow, the crimson was unusually lurid; the way the thin rivulets trickled down the razor sharp edge and caught at the point reminded her too much of yesterday; an arc of scarlet through the air, droplets scattering to the ground and soaking into pristine white snow…

She exhaled slowly. _Maybe… I did act out of turn yesterday._

Despite everything – the way she wanted to bury all her _fragile, weak_ emotions behind her and put on a mask of complete indifference – she could feel the guilt, pain, frustration already bubbling up inside her from when she’d pushed them away yesterday. And in spite of everything she wanted to feel, the things she insisted she felt… most of all, she really did miss the Seventh Platoon’s companionship.

_I pushed them away… I was the one who hurt them. I really did act too rashly… Roderick was right._

Her breath clouded the air.

_…that’s it. I’ll tell Roderick that he was right, that it was my fault – then… then we can go back to normal. This silence, this – I can’t bear it._

The decision relieved her, much as she might’ve wanted herself to hate that it did.

Cecil released a long breath. May nickered.

“I’ll do that as soon as we regroup.” She told May, taking hold on the reins with both hands again. If May understood – _Which she wouldn’t, of course, she’s just a horse_ – she did not respond, only flicking her ears and dutifully obeying Cecil’s command to start trotting forward.

_Whenever we do regroup, that is…_

The howling blizzard made it hard to see. Silhouettes that seemed to shift within the snow turned out to be trees or even just thin air when she approached. Cecil spared glances behind herself every now and again to make sure nothing had snuck up on her in her limited circle of visibility, but still – nothing.

Even the sounds of the ballistae had faded out at this point, or at least were spaced out a lot more now, with only a single distant bang every a minute. _Did they run out of bolts? Or have the others gotten to them already?_ She wondered. Either way, that was good for them… though it only disoriented her more. With no sound but the baying of wind and May’s laboured breathing, Cecil felt very, very alone.

She tightened her hold on the reins. _Hopefully I run into any of them soon…_ Then another thought struck her. _Maybe the battle’s over and I didn’t even realise. Did I wander too far?_

They wandered on some more. The passing of time had either slowed to a crawl, or was blurring by too fast. And the blizzard was getting worse, it seemed – even the thrill and rush of adrenaline from battle was fading away and leaving her fingers feeling cold and numb.

Cecil slowed. There was a new sound; something less like the shrieking of wind and more… familiar. She strained her ears and there it was again – the sound of cascading water, rapid by the way it crashed against the shore – the sound of a loud _splash_ that pierced the air – and flooded downstream.

_A river… there’s a river here?_

Cecil contemplated turning back, but perhaps there was something about having a target to reach that caused her to continue going. At least it would mean that she wouldn’t be wandering aimlessly anymore – and perhaps at least someone out of their small force of soldiers would have ended up thinking the same as well. With that goal in mind, she urged May towards the sound, though making sure to tread carefully.

Soon enough, the vibrant azure blue of the river came into sight. The snow seamlessly melted into a narrow rocky shore and then foaming water. The river itself twisted and turned through the snow, winding its way downstream like the lashing tail of a dragon.

It would’ve been a peaceful sight if she hadn’t caught sight of something else on the shore.

_…a strip of red cloth? It’s not mine, though…_

Moving closer to the river would’ve been treacherous for May, so she dismounted. A couple of cautious steps towards the rocky shore with her sword in hand – when nobody came running to ambush her after a few long moments of looking around, she knelt to study the piece of fabric.

It left a red stain in the snow. She gave a start; the red of the fabric had been hiding the blood so well that she hadn’t even realised that it was smeared with blood. And there were a lot of footprints in the snow, she realised – now that she had dismounted, she could see the grooves and trenches in the snow from where a scuffle must’ve taken place.

_In that case…_ A short burst of panic raced through her. _It can’t be – no, it can’t be Prince Marth’s cape. Kris would be at his side constantly, and there would’ve had to be some sign that the two of them were here…_

It had to be one of the assassins, then. _Which would be the best option… but then that means that one of us were here, too. But I don’t see anyone… and there isn’t even a body in sight._

Her heart was pounding for some reason, though she couldn’t figure out why. She spared another glance behind herself to make sure she wasn’t being ambushed – which she wasn’t – then started to tread the precarious path back to safer ground…

Then from the corner of her eye – a telltale flash of green.

Cecil spun around, nearly sending herself careening into the river. There, further down the riverbank; a figure sprawled out facedown in the snow, green coat soaked dark with river water…

_By Naga – no, he’s – he’s not dead–_

Her head was pounding and everything felt too cold.

Tripping on loose gravel and clumps of snow, Cecil floundered her way to Roderick’s side through the howling blizzard. She dropped to her knees, sinking partially into the snow – the snow, tainted red with blood, _why blood–?!_ – and struggled against the biting wind and sharp pinpricks of ice digging into her face and hands and finally managed to turn him over.

It was unmistakable that it was him. Brown hair plastered to one side of his face and the familiar green armour – there was a part of her mind, the part in denial, which pleaded that it wasn’t him, that she was imagining things – and, with a plummeting heart, she took in the limp arm at his side that was still, somehow, spilling crimson into the snow from the vicious gash stretching from shoulder to elbow, the drenched clothes, already crusting over with frost, the shallow rise and fall of his chest…

_He’s – he’s alive–!_

“Rod–Roderick!” The crack in her voice would’ve have been mortifying any other day, but Cecil could not care less. Her mind had gone blank for several seconds until she was once again forcibly reminded of how cold it was when a harsh gale whipped at their battered bodies.

_I need to – to think…_

Who knew where the others were, and leaving him behind to find them was not an option. But the first thing that really worried her was the way the deep cut was somehow still bleeding out…

Cecil caught sight of his lance lying right next to his body. The shaft was broken – Cecil didn’t know whether she wanted to know why – but the sight of the snapped pole was enough to rouse her memory.

She grabbed the broken end of the lance’s shaft. With the other hand, she yanked the ribbon on her headband and it unravelled at once, spilling out between her fingers as a long strip of cloth.

Her own breaths were coming shallow and fast as well, and the strands of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes was not helping. She took in a deep breath and tried to quell her trembling hands. _He’s relying on me. I can’t mess this up._

In some corner of her memory, she grasped onto the threads of those lessons with Sir Frey back when they were just squires – the ‘boring’ lessons where, aside from tactics and Archanean history, they were lectured about first aid, what to do if there wasn’t a cleric around…

_But I never thought I would actually have to do this myself…_

She’d never thought about actually having to be alone, for that matter. She was rarely separated from the Seventh Platoon, and even then, she would be accompanied by someone else; Roderick, Kris or even Ryan would’ve probably been able to do this better than she could. Yet there was no one, and the one person she would’ve trusted most to perform a procedure like this was bleeding out right in front of her.

_Damn – I need to focus!_

She released another long breath, then began the process of wrapping the headband above the still-bleeding wound. Blood soaked into the purple fabric, staining it dark, but that was the least of her concerns right now.

The broken lance shaft made an effective windlass. She made quick work of binding the fabric around it, making sure to secure it by winding around the frayed ends and then wrapping it back around again to form a tight knot over it.

Cecil tightened her grip on the two ends of the broken lance shaft and began to twist, tightening the makeshift tourniquet slowly but surely–

A short, shallow gasp; Cecil spared a glance over and felt something twist in her chest. It wasn’t as if she didn’t remember that applying one of these caused pain – in fact, Sir Frey had said something about pain showing that it was being tightened correctly – but actually having to witness it and be the cause of it ( _again,_ she thought bitterly) was something entirely different. With sweat beading across his brow and half-opened eyes glazed in pain, it was hard to continue, but–

“…I understand.” It was almost too quiet to hear, but everything seemed to have fallen silent around her anyway. Even the howling wind and cascading river had faded into the background past the hammering of her heartbeat in her ears. Cecil looked back down at Roderick and his eyes were on her, half-lidded but steady and almost comforting, despite their whole situation – she might’ve laughed at the fact that _he_ was giving her advice if it wasn’t happening at this moment right now.

Cecil could only nod wordlessly – she didn’t trust her voice to not give out on her – and steady her grip and keep tightening it. Roderick’s eyes screwed shut again and she could see him digging his nails into his palm, but Cecil did not stop until the flow of blood from the gaping wound slowly became a thin trickle.

She let go. Her hands shook – there was blood on them, slicking her grip – but it was done.

“I’m–” Cecil’s voice cracked again at the sight. This wasn’t right – she couldn’t remember once where she had seen him actually act on his pain, even through the heavy training and the beatings they had all gone through as squires. Without really thinking, she put a hand on his cheek – it was ice-cold yet felt hot at the same time, or maybe it was just the heat from her quivering hand – and cautiously brushed the pad of her thumb over his left cheek, sweeping away the beading sweat and thin layer of frost over the raised skin of a barely-healed cut…

Then it hit her that his clothes were still soaking wet with icy water – _Had he fallen into the river?_ – and she immediately yanked off her own coat to throw over him. Immediately, the freezing wind began to chill her to the bone, clawing and raking over her skin like knives.

“You’ll be fine,” she whispered, dragging her tongue over her dry, numb lips. Her hand somehow found its way into his uninjured one, winding her fingers in between his and tightening as if it would somehow transfer her heat to his. “I… I won’t let you die.”

“…Cecil?” Roderick opened his eyes again, bleary vision focusing on her after a long moment. Cecil was hit by a moment of deja vu – a time where it was her where he was and a time where the air felt hot and scorching rather than cold and like daggers were plunging into every exposed inch of her skin…

“Your… your coat–” Roderick breathed, seeming to finally process his thoughts and moving to sit up, only to hiss and fall back limp in her grasp.

“Stay down.” Cecil said stubbornly, refusing to acknowledge the bitter, numbing cold creeping up her stiff legs. “You’re not going anywhere, not yet – the others have to find us… they will…!”

“You’ll – you’ll get sick…”

“N-not any worse than you!” She retorted. Her chattering teeth betrayed her, but it wasn’t like she was doing a good job of hiding her shivering anyway.

Dark eyes drifted back to focus on her again. His lips moved, but no sound came out; only a breathy rasp that almost could sound like words if she strained.

“Damn – I’m not… I’m not losing you!” She snapped, utter fear enveloping her for just a moment and coming out as scorching fire in her scathing words, though it was directed at no one but herself. “You’ve – you’ve always been here, damn it, and you – you’re not going anywhere else, you’re not going to – I haven’t even–”

A whinny and neigh; it sounded so distant and so abstract in the harsh ruthlessness of the blizzard that Cecil almost thought she had hallucinated it. But even her ears couldn’t mistake the sound of hoofbeats through the snow or the sound of shouting, in a voice so familiar yet so far…

“…Cecil! Roderick! Guys!”

Cecil closed her eyes for a moment, and the next thing she knew, there was someone grasping her shoulders, hauling her up–

“No, you – Roderick–”

“We’ve got him – we’ve got you two.” someone’s voice said, reassuring and warm. And that wasn’t the other warm thing; there was something around her shoulders and her skin was prickling – she could actually feel her limbs now…

“Cecil, you can hold on to me, right?” Even Luke didn’t sound as grating and irritating as he usually did. Cecil cracked a smile at the thought. _Maybe he might actually succeed at courting a woman…_

“Hey, what’cha smiling about?”

Then, in a quieter voice: “…is she alright? She’s not alright, she never smiles like that unless she’s about to beat–”

“I–I’m just glad they’re both alive…”

“Stop talking and hurry!” That was Sir Jagen, Cecil recalled. “We need to return to camp right away to have them looked at immediately.”

“V-ve vill follow you on foot – ve vill catch up…”

“Miss Athena, you’re gravely injured – please just stay where you are on Sir Jagen’s horse!”

“E-er, I think we found Roderick’s horse just along the riverbank here – what do we do with it…?”

“Sire! Perhaps, ah, may I ask – would you be able to ride one of their horses? And Ryan, do you know how to ride a horse – you could help lead their horses back…”

Cecil closed her eyes again. The loud clamour was hurting her head, and the warmth was making her very sleepy…

_Everything’s alright now. They’re here… Roderick’ll be fine… I can close my eyes for a moment, right?_

-x-x-x-

Cecil distantly remembered not being allowed to go to sleep. She was aware of feeling rather ill-tempered for not being allowed to close her eyes for even just a moment – Luke kept on talking in her ear for what felt like hours on end, much to her irritation – but the next thing she knew, they had stopped moving and someone was helping her off the back of the horse.

She didn’t remember anything after that – whether that was stumbling back into camp or anything – because when she finally felt the haze of confusion gradually lift, she was lying on her back and staring at the dark green fabric of the medical tent. And it felt very, very hot.

Cecil blinked slowly. There was a dry, warm blanket – or three – wrapped around her shoulders. In fact, she was bundled up to the chin in thick blankets. Her armour was sitting on the desk next to her, and there was someone in the chair next to the cot.

She gave a start. “Huh?! Ryan? What are you doing here?”

“Oh!” He startled at her presence too, nearly leaping right out of his chair in sheer fright. “Cecil! Y-you’re awake!”

“I… I didn’t fall asleep in the first place. Luke wouldn’t let me.” She muttered the last sentence under her breath, but her fatigued mind was already trying to put together the fragmented thoughts. Suddenly, as if being hit by an arrow, everything suddenly struck her at once. “I – wait, where are the others? Where’s–”

“Everyone’s fine.” Ryan explained before she could continue. “Sir Wrys is helping Miss Athena with her wounds, and… er, the clerics took Roderick to the back of the tent. B-but they’ve assured us that he’s fine! Or at least, he will be…”

Cecil closed her eyes and breathed out. Then she opened her eyes again and began peeling off the blankets. “I’m going to go find him.”

“Wait–! They said not to disturb them – they wouldn’t even let Luke or Kris in…”

“Yeah, that’s why we’re here.” The voice came with a gust of cold wind. Cecil suddenly decided that the warmth was actually preferable and shrank back into her cocoon of blankets.

“Oi, close the tent flaps.” Luke said.

“Oh, right.” Kris sighed and yanked the flaps of the tent shut. “So how’re you doing, Cecil? We were really worried for you two when we found you just out in the cold. And without a coat too! What were you thinking?!”

“Roderick needed it more…” She muttered, though she was very aware that she sounded like a pouting child. She scowled. “Anyway, what’s it got to do with you?”

“You’ve been acting off ever since yesterday. In fact, the both of you!” Kris said, voice rising in volume. Then he sighed again. “I’m not sure what happened yesterday between you two – I’ve just heard the rumours in camp and you know they’ve blown everything out of proportion when they’re talking about one of you trying to kill the other – but the fact that none of you said a word to us about any of it just made it worse. As your platoon’s commander, I… I was worried–” His voice cracked and he swallowed thickly. “I promised that none of you would die under my command. We could’ve lost both of you out there, and to the weather nonetheless–”

“Peace, Kris!” Luke slung an arm over Kris’s shoulder, cutting off his tirade. “The thing is that everyone’s alive and well, and that’s what matters. Yeah, there’re things we probably could’ve all done better – and the blizzard really did make things worse by splitting us all up – but in the end, we’ve just got to learn from these mistakes and not make them next time, yeah?”

“You–” Kris suddenly looked a lot more weary in that moment, with his sunken cheeks and the dark shadows under his eyes. He closed his eyes and exhaled. “…alright, fine – for now, I guess. It’s… good to have you back, Cecil.”

Cecil only nodded in response, not really sure what to say. Then she looked down at the blankets swaddling her body again. “I can take these off, right? I’m fine now.”

“Uh…” Ryan shrugged. “I guess?”

Cecil began to unwind the first and second layer of blankets. As she did that, Kris spoke up again.

“So… well, I’ll leave the lecture for next time, but we’re still in the dark about everything that happened yesterday between you two. Did you have a fight? You’re usually, well, close, you know.”

Luke snickered. “Yeah, close.”

Ryan blinked. “Huh?”

“Anyway,” Kris continued, “Since you’re the only one who seems to actually know what happened here…”

“I…” It hit her, then – the apologies she had swore that she would give that she never quite got to say, not with everything that had happened. It overwhelmed her like a sweeping tide; much as she hated to admit, the emotions, the guilt and regret… it made her feel weak.

“Can I tell you later?”

Kris’s brow furrowed, but Luke smoothly answered in his stead – whether that was what Kris was actually going to say or not, it didn’t matter at this point. “Yeah, sure.”

Luke was being unusually… nice, or just not his usual annoying self – either way, Cecil was in part perplexed and in part suspicious. But she chose to brush it aside for now, and offered a nod in thanks.

“Ah – they said you should drink some warm water… here, one of the clerics heated it up, but… oh, it’s cooled down again…”

“It’s fine. Thank you, Ryan.” Cecil reached out for the glass and took a sip.

“Seventh Platoon!” Someone suddenly called.

“Aw, they even know our names already?” Luke grinned. “We must be really popular–”

“Or we show up in here way too often…”

“–shut up!” Cecil hissed.

“You can see your friend now. Actually-” The white-robed cleric strode over to them, eyes narrowing. “I haven’t seen either of you yet, have I? I felt I was missing someone.”

“What, us?” Kris frowned. “We’re fine. We don’t need–”

“And knowing you and your platoon, there’s bound to be at least something that’s cropped up.” The cleric continued, ignoring him as she grabbed his wrist. “The last time I let it slide, you nearly passed out in the middle of Anri’s Way because of that wound you were hiding – Naga knows how long you’ve sustained that…”

“Yeah, because unlike you, when _I_ have an injury, I make sure to go get it checked immediately rather than fall over and actually have to be caught by Prince Marth.” Luke flaunted.

The cleric’s expression twisted into a grimace. “Unfortunately so. But as for right now – I still haven’t checked up on your injuries yet, Luke, so we’ll have to do that right away.”

“What?! But–” Luke cut himself off. “Wait, what do you mean by ‘unfortunately’?! Ow, ow – my ear! Hey, what about Ryan?! He hasn’t–”

“He’s already been to check up with us, unlike you two. Now sit down!”

Cecil snorted at the sight of the two knights being berated by the cleric. Ryan tugged at her sleeve. “Er, Cecil – do you… did you want to see Roderick first? I can wait outside…”

“See – oh, right… Right–!” Cecil tossed off the remaining blanket onto the bed and pulled herself to her feet. The sudden rush of blood to her legs nearly caused her to trip and stagger, but she managed to steady herself on the end of the cot and then walk – relatively normally – to the other end of the tent and push open the tent flaps.

“You–” Cecil wasn’t quite sure what she had been planning to say, but the surge of relief that went through her entire body was enough. Roderick looked over at her from where he was sitting, a warm light in his eyes and with his usual half-smile – and arm bandaged all properly and not being tied up by her crude tourniquet anymore – and Cecil had to force herself not to come running to his side at once.

She settled for perching on the edge of his bed. Her heart was pounding unusually fast – but in a good way – and she couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face too. “So… how are you?”

“Tired,” Roderick admitted, “but much better now. I don’t quite remember everything that happened, just up to when one of the assassins dragged me into the river with them too – but I think they were swept away anyway. Then after that…”

The two fell into silence, reminiscing the not-so-distant memories.

“Ah, I nearly forgot. Thank you for lending me your headband…” Roderick abruptly produced something from behind one of the pillows – a pale purple piece of fabric dangling from his fingers, dark smudges speckling the cloth. He glanced at her – and it took a moment for Cecil to realise that he was probably staring at the way her hair was curtaining her face and not pushed back up. “Oh – I should probably wash it first… I apologise for sullying it–”

“No, it’s alright. You can keep it.” She blurted out.

“I really do apologise – I don’t know if it’s stained…”

“Uh, I meant, I don’t mind. You don’t have to keep it, I mean, you can throw it away if you want since… I have a lot of spares…”

They sat in awkward silence for a long moment.

“I… see.”

Cecil regretted speaking without thinking.

“I… think I’ll keep it then, if you don’t mind. I – it’s something from you–” Roderick cut himself off and hesitated for another long moment before speaking again. “It’ll be a reminder…”

He trailed off again; the remainder of the vague sentence hanging in the air. The uncomfortable silence lengthened.

Then Cecil took a deep breath, cleared her throat–

“I’m sorry.” Those words didn’t come from her mouth. Cecil paused.

“I… I didn’t think about how you would’ve felt yesterday.” Roderick continued, smile fading for just a moment. “You were right. I only thought of myself and what I thought was my duty… I truly do admire your willingness to go beyond gender distinctions and to call out those who did not treat you equally. I was wrong to try take this away from you yesterday, when I knew this so well, and I understand why you were so furious at me…”

“Hold on a second. It should be me apologising, not the other way round.” The words spilled from her lips before she could think, just like last time, but this time – this time, she truly meant them. “It’s my fault I lashed out. I was irrationally angry, and I should’ve thought it through more – I… I hurt you. And I was wrong, I shouldn’t – I was being reckless and thoughtless and it was wrong of me to hurt someone just because they said something I disagreed with–”

The sudden touch of a hand over her own stopped her in her tracks.

“You didn’t mean it. It was me who walked too close and didn’t tell you…”

“But I – I could’ve hurt you – I could’ve killed you!” Cecil didn’t realise she was shaking until she felt Roderick’s fingers entwine with hers and rest comfortingly over her hand, holding it still. “If I’d swung just an inch closer or if you’d been just a step closer, I’d–”

“Perhaps, but I’m still here.” Roderick’s voice was soothing, reassuring – as steady as a winding brook, treading its worn-out path down the mountainside and through a tranquil forest. Cecil took a deep, tremulous breath; but it was almost immediately knocked out of her lungs as she felt his other hand settle on the curve of her jaw and turn her face towards his.

Her eyes landed on the thin, shallow scar that traced his left cheek and anger, guilt and remorse flooded up all at once, and when she opened her mouth to splutter out more apologies or _something_ –

“We’re both alive,” Roderick breathed, “And that’s what matters. And I only hope that it stays that way… because I don’t want to see you hurt. I care about you, Cecil, so please…”

They stared at each other for a long moment in complete silence.

“I…” His throat bobbed. A nervous swallow, averted eyes; it took a moment to realise that her own heart was pounding just as loud and her own face had to be as red as her armour.

“…I care about you too.” She mumbled, because she wasn’t sure of what else to say; with his hand on her cheek and his face so close to hers, it was as if her mind had gone blank.

“I –” Roderick hesitated, then spoke again. “Cecil, may I say something?”

“What?”

He closed his eyes for a moment. Cecil followed the flutter of his dark eyelashes and the faint whisper of breath from parted lips, riveted – but…

“No – let me amend that. May I… may I do something?”

Cecil’s throat was dry. “Yes…?”

And – well, it was hard to say unexpected, not in a situation like this – but in an uncharacteristically   
brazen move, Roderick closed the distance between them and brushed his lips to her own in a chaste kiss. It was hardly a kiss, more like the briefest touching of lips; but it was sweet and uncertain and so unlike him yet it was everything she might’ve thought it would be.

It was over in a heartbeat.

“I’m… I got ahead of myself. I’m sor–”

“Don’t be.” Her voice was sharper and firmer than she would’ve thought. And she was grateful for that; it made her sound more confident than she felt, because her heart was racing and her hands were trembling – though she was pretty sure her flushed face was giving her away. She took a deep breath in some futile attempt to try calm herself and spoke again. “I think – I feel the same way… I – I don’t know when I realised, but after everything we’ve gone through, I – I realised I don’t want to lose you, more than anyone else, and I can’t bear the thought of…”

Roderick silenced her rambling with a single sentence, spoken in an almost breathless tone; and with the slight widening of his eyes and the pink tint to his cheeks, it was as if Cecil was seeing a completely different – yet familiar – side to him. “You… speak truly?”

“I–” Cecil nodded. The inexplicable urge to throw her arms around him hit her in that moment – and so she acted on that instinct, pulling her hand out from beneath his to fling herself at him and nearly knock him flat on his back on the bed again as she embraced him as hard as she could, as if he would disappear at any moment – and in war, that was a possibility for all of them, but in this moment…

She sighed contentedly and leaned her head against his chest, searching for the reassuring, steady _thump, thump_ of his heartbeat – the sound of life, of his existence. He was tense in her grasp for a long moment, stunned into silence–

“Er… Cecil?” Roderick’s voice sounded unusually strained. “You’re… my ribs…”

“Oh – sorry.” Cecil felt her face warm with embarrassment, but she couldn’t help the elated giddiness that was still rushing through her. She was smiling dopily and probably making a fool of herself in front of him, she realised – but it really was the last thing on her mind.

“I don’t want to ever lose you.” She said, closing her eyes for a moment. The stress, the anxiety and tension – everything within the last twenty four hours – it was overwhelming, yes, but nothing could overwhelm the dizzying, wonderful happiness, the physical warmth spreading through her entire body. She opened her eyes and found herself staring into his eyes again – eyes that were watching her expectantly, yet wide and bright with this light that she had never really understood until _now_. “Ever since yesterday, I didn’t realise – I didn’t realise what I was feeling until now. And I don’t want anything like it to happen ever again – I don’t want any more close calls like these. If you do, I’ll…”

The sound of laughter had never sounded so melodic to her ears. “I understand, Cecil. I won’t disappoint you.” Then a pause. “And… I know we have our duties as knights, but I would like to ask the same of you too. Even if I can’t always be at your side…”

“Did I say I needed protection from a man?”

“I–” Roderick hesitated, but the merriment in her eyes said otherwise. “Oh, I see. You were jesting…”

She laughed at his expense. “…well, I guess I can accept it – only this once. Though it’s no excuse for anything else… I expect to be treated like every other knight. There’s no need to act different otherwise.”

“Well, if you’re…” He paused again, then his eyes seemed to steel. “Very well. I wouldn’t treat you differently just because you’re a woman, Cecil – but… I’m afraid you would have to forgive me for treating you differently because I don’t think I would be able to act towards everyone in the same way as I would do with you. You’ll have to accept my affection…”

“A–affection? I – I guess…”

_…Affection? Is this what it’s been… what I’ve felt?_

The thought of him _being_ like this with anyone else did infuriate her though, and she squashed the growing displeasure building up inside her. Instead, she focused on the moment; settling down at his bedside again and leaning against him, eyes fluttering shut. The rhythm of his heartbeat, the even rise and fall of his chest…

“I’m just glad we’re both alive too.” She whispered. “I’m… very glad that you’re here. And…”

_I care for you, I want to see you safe, I…_

“…I love you.”

She’d spoken before she could even think. But in the moment, it felt so fitting, so right–

“…I love you too, Cecil.” Roderick’s eyes softened, and he released a long breath. “I – goodness, I don’t know how long it’s been…”

“How… long? You mean you’ve–”

“Don’t – ah, well, I suppose you would have to know eventually…”

“Please, do tell.” Cecil smiled, a mischievous tilt to her lips. “I think I would like to know…”

-x-x-x-

“Are they done yet?” Kris muttered.

“Shh!” Luke hissed loudly, putting a finger to his lips and trying to peer through the gap in the tent flaps again.

“Er, what are you guys doing…?”

“Shh!”

“S-sorry…” Ryan glanced out the cleric’s tent, then back at them. “But, er…”

“It’s been way too long. And he finally acts on his feelings now, after like, what, how many months–?” Luke snorted, spinning back around to face them. “If it were me…”

“Huh. So you’re saying that Roderick has a girlfriend before you do?” Kris suddenly said.

“Yeah, I – wait, what?! I – hey, wait a moment–! That’s not…”

“I thought we were being quiet?” Ryan said.

Kris chuckled. “Apparently not.”

“Hey…!” Luke whined. “It’s not my fault nobody seems to appreciate the splendour of the Paladin of Dawn Luke… hey, you think if I changed my hairstyle to be like–”

“No. I don’t think so.” Ryan said, sounding unusually forceful for once.

Luke blinked, momentarily stunned into silence.

“What are you so interested in looking at anyway?” Kris stood up and ambled over to peer through the tent flaps – then immediately jerked back. “Oh, no, they’re having a moment – I’m not going to interrupt them…”

“What are they–?”

“Ryan, no – we’re going.” Kris grabbed Ryan before he could get up to look and immediately dragged him out of the medic’s tent. Luke took a second to process his thoughts.

“Hey, guys, why are you leaving?!”

-x-x-x-

“Did you hear something?” Roderick asked, pausing for a moment to turn towards the tent flaps.

“Hm?”

“…never mind, it was probably just the wind.”

It took Cecil a moment to understand. “Are you teasing me about that–?! It was nearly a whole year ago–!”

His eyes crinkled at the corners with amusement. “Perhaps, but it doesn’t feel like it was that long ago…”

“Why, you–?!”

“But honestly,” Roderick said, catching her fist with his hand and pulling her hand away before she could playfully punch him, “there was an unusual sound. It sounded like voices, but I don’t think the clerics are waiting outside…”

Cecil narrowed her eyes. “…I’ll be back in a moment.”

“Ah, wait – Cecil, you don’t have a coat…”

Despite the sudden bout of panicked screaming and angered yelling that immediately broke loose outside, a fond smile crossed Roderick’s face. _…it really isn’t the same without Cecil being herself._

“I’m back.” Cecil reappeared, hair noticeably more messy than before.

“What…?”

“Just dealt with something irrelevant.”

“I… see.”

“Anyway, with that aside…” She settled back against Roderick’s side once more and sighed, expression not unlike the face of a cat all too pleased with itself, and slid her fingers through his to interweave them together once more.

Roderick hummed softly and rested his head against the top of hers. “I’ll always be there for you, Cecil. If there’s anything you need…”

Cecil didn’t need to answer. Well, at least verbally, anyway…

“…hm–? Cecil–”

Cecil had never been more pleased than before to leave him as breathless as he was now; not even a satisfying end to a training session or jabbing Luke in the stomach with a training lance could beat that.

They were complete opposites, like fire and ice; but in this moment, Cecil couldn’t imagine being anywhere else except for at Roderick’s side. And from the muted yet elated warmth in his gaze, his content smile as he met her eyes; Cecil was certain that Roderick felt the same way too.

**Author's Note:**

> There's hardly any content of these two so I guess I'll make it myself, even if it comes in the form of a 15,000+ word fanfic because that's how I do things. Anyway, please appreciate them. I love them a lot, no matter how cliché it might be – and as you might be able to tell, I am, unfortunately, a fan of cliché things. I would also apologise for OOCness here but with so little content of them anyway, half of their personality here are based off the few lines of text they do get and the other half is complete headcanon.
> 
> When I write fluff, it gets way too sappy, and I feel like everyone gets a little OOC. But maybe it's not too obvious (well, the OOC part at least)? I'm not quite sure. And I just realised that most of my fics tend to end in a similar way; a couple of near-deaths here and there, everybody panicking, then everything's good again. Ah well – it's fun to write, so why not? Either way, I will be doing my best to gradually supply Cecil x Roderick content. Maybe.


End file.
